All's Fair in Love and War
by Fuffuster
Summary: When the Dark Lord is defeated, Severus becomes free and decides to produce an heir. But how does our favorite bushy haired know it all become involved? [HGxSS] WARNING: rated for future encounters and language.
1. I: Prologue: Part I

All's Fair in Love and War

**PROLOGUE**

**Disclaimer**: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

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Although the air was hot and stuffy, the atmosphere in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry couldn't have been more cheerful. With two days until the end of term and the graduation of another year of enthusiastic students, the mood was unmistakably one of general contentment and optimism. Which was why no one seemed to notice the air of distress surrounding Hermione Granger.

Lazy students sat boredly at their desks, most either snoozing with their head in their arms or giggling quietly with their closest neighbor. Hermione sat upright in her seat, body prone and stiff, eyes trained on the dungeon floor. Voices droned on all around her but she tuned them out. She sighed and her body responded with a hearty throb, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat and gaze around the classroom nervously. _God_, she thought angrily, _I'm so wanton. Even as my heart is breaking my body can only think of one thing_.

"Miss Granger," called a remarkably controlled voice. The witch started, her eyes wide as she sank back down to Earth, dragged reluctantly out of her reverie by the only person who could affect her.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" she responded meekly. He swooped over to her, his black robe billowing behind him like it had been charmed to do so, and stood over her wordlessly. Hermione cringed as his onyx eyes bore into her body relentlessly. She could feel them on her. His gaze was so intense sometimes that she nearly creamed herself just watching him, even if he wasn't looking at her. And his voice … it was a wonder she'd even _passed _Potions class this year; at times, his voice alone got her so worked up that she'd hardly had the power to do anything but sit in her seat silently and listen to him speak, his voice reverberating through her body like a secret fantasy.

Hermione's fixation with her Potions professor had been haunting her for the better part of her seventh year. She wasn't sure exactly why, but she thought it might have had something to do with her newly awakening sexual desires. Hermione had always felt a little out of sorts with her sexuality, wondering why she found sex disgusting even as the people she had grown up with began to discover the pleasures of puberty. Even Ginny Weasley, who was a year her junior, had lost her virginity, all before Hermione had even discovered that she could pleasure herself through masturbation.

"There's nothing to it, really," Ginny explained one evening just before the start of term. "Sex doesn't have to be personal unless you want it to be. Just pick a guy and snog him and before long you'll be flat on your back with your legs in the air. Why?" she'd asked suspiciously. "Do you like someone, 'Mione?"

"No," she'd answered truthfully. The boys in her year were immature and single-minded. What appealed to her was intelligence, and it was what they sorely lacked. They only had one thing on their mind and it wasn't books or riveting conversations about the effects of cinchona seeds on newborns.

And that was what led to her infatuation with one Severus Snape. While other students paid just enough attention to be classified as conscious, Hermione listened attentively, hanging on to every word he said and carving them into her memory. The witch valued intelligence and integrity, and it became more and more obvious to her that Professor Snape embodied everything she cherished in a man. She began to notice other things about him, like the silky timbre of his voice and the intensity of his penetrating charcoal gaze. The way he tended to his ingredients and potions … carefully, deliberately and precisely, leaving no room for error or failure. The way he commanded the attention of a room simply by walking into it. He was the alpha male and there was no other option.

Slowly but surely, Professor Severus Snape dominated Hermione's thoughts, just as he so adequately dominated his classroom, his art. Thoughts of respect and admiration merged with thoughts of him driving into her over and over, completely obliterating whatever virginal qualities she had left inside her. Many of her nights were spent moaning and writhing as fantasies of her Potions professor played in her mind. His love wasn't gentle, and she didn't want it to be. She bled and screaming and begged for mercy—

"Just as I expect the rest of these dunderheads to show absolutely no interest in my class whatsoever," he barked sharply, "I would expect you to show at least some. Straighten up and pay attention, Miss Granger. Twenty points from Gryffindor." He turned and strode back to the head of class where a piece of chalk was hurriedly scratching out their homework assignment across the blackboard. Hermione signed in relief and slumped down in her seat, trembling visibly. That hadn't been _so_ bad, although his verbal abuse had made her so wet that she could hear it squishing between her thighs every time she moved. God … she had to find a way to end this.

_There's only one way to do that_, she thought grimly as the bell rang and she began to gather her books. _Although the chances of that happening are about as slim as Malfoy being gay_.

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Awww. Poor Hermione. You can probably guess what's going to happen, though. Please review! Flames are welcome.. in fact, they're _encouraged_. I want the complete and honest truth, even if it's mean. 


	2. Prologue: Part II

**PROLOGUE: PART II**

**Disclaimer**: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

**Triss33, MysticPammy, and OtakUnite: I thank you for the comments! This one's for you guys.**

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Hermione picked moodily at her food as excited Gryffindor students chatted merrily with each other, more or less ignoring her. They had learned to disregard her when she was in a bad mood, which she seemed to be more and more frequently these days.

"Did you hear what Malfoy and Zabini did in the Slytherin common room last night?" gushed an excited female voice. "I heard there was a party and some Firewhiskey, and ..."

Hermione sighed miserably, risking a glance up to the head table where Professor Snape was sitting. He looked rather preoccupied with his lunch, ravishing his chicken sandwich like a fine woman. Hermione's breathing quickened. He seemed rather uncomfortable sitting between Professor McGonagall and Hagrid, who waved at her when he saw her looking. She waved back tentatively and averted her gaze back to her lunch. After a few moments, her eyes deftly slid back to gaze at the Potions master.

She wanted to memorize his face. She wanted to remember everything about him, because she would probably never see him again.

"Hey, Hermione," said Harry suddenly. She shook her head and blinked a few times, clearing the cobwebs from her head. She turned to Harry and mustered a weak smile. "Yes?"

"A bunch of us are going to head over to Hogsmeade this afternoon. Want to come?" he offered, taking a hefty bite of his sandwich.

Hermione's eyes flicked over to the Potions master quickly before she shook her head and began to pick at her food again absently. "I can't, Harry. Sorry."

Harry stopped eating and looked at her seriously. Hermione had been really down lately and he hadn't said anything, believing that time could fix whatever she was going through. But now … it was time for him to intervene.

"Hermione, what's wrong with you? You've been really moody lately," he said softly, squeezing her hand gently. "You can tell me anything, 'Mione, you know that."

Hermione pursed her lips, eyes shining with unshed tears. She was so tempted to tell him. Harry would understand; he _always_ had. She swiped the tears away and shook her head, turning back towards her uneaten meal. "I can't, Harry … I just can't." She cast him an apologetic sideways glance. "I'm sorry. I just can't."

Harry watched her for a moment, his jaw working thoughtfully. Then he nodded and squeezed her hand supportively. "Alright. I won't press it. You can come to me when you're ready," he said, rising from his seat. "I'll always be there for you if you need me."

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered softly. She watched her friend leave, followed by a small group of others who were probably getting ready to go to Hogsmeade. As soon as they rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, Hermione's honey-colored eyes darted back to the head table.

Professor Snape was gone.

But Hermione knew where to find him.

.x.

Everywhere outside of Hogwarts' dungeons, it was nearly warm enough to melt a dragon. Most of the Slytherins and a few hopeful students from rivaling houses had taken refuge in the most dank and gloomy parts of the archaic castle, trying to escape from the heat wave that had taken hold of the rest of the school. All but one of the dungeon-goers reveled in the cool, almost cold, temperature, and this man sat in front of his fireplace sipping a Firewhiskey, deep in thought. His feet were propped up on the edge of the hearth and he stared into the flames absently, obsidian black eyes clouded with some all-consuming thought or memory. He jumped and immediately began to scowl when an anxious knock on his chamber door shook him back to reality. He took his time getting up and making his way to the door.

"Professor Snape," whispered Hermione meekly as he opened the door and gazed down at her neutrally. She gulped nervously and returned his stare with a great deal of inner strength. His eyes were blank; his face, expressionless. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Then he sighed and growled audibly, annoyance etched in his face. Hermione looked away.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice strained with irritation. "What could be so _terribly_ important that you had to come and bother me in my private chambers on your last day of school?"

"Sir…" Hermione's voice faltered and she looked down at the cold stone floor. Her heart was pounding and she felt sick to her stomach. _I have to do it_, she thought to herself. _I may not get another chance._

"Well?" he barked impatiently.

"Professor Snape, I think I'm in love with you," she gushed quickly.

Hermione winced, waiting for him to yell at her, tell her she was a fool, or maybe even hex her. But he didn't. In fact, he didn't say anything at all. She stood there, silent and unmoving, for a few moments before risking a tentative glance up at him. He was looking at her blankly. Had he even heard her?

"Professor?" she said quietly. "Professor, I said—"

"I heard what you said."

"…Oh." A faint pink hue began to creep up Hermione's neck and spread onto her face as she waited for his reply. She hadn't expected this. She had spent hours planning what to do and say if she was rejected, and dreamed of what she'd do if he accepted her. But now … she had no idea what he was thinking.

Panic began to flare in her heart. What if he _didn't_ accept her? Hermione drew in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm herself down. As an excellent student (who'd graduated first of her year), she had never had to deal with any sort of major failure before. Her "try-hard-and-succeed" work ethic had never been faulty. As the silence of his indecisiveness rang in her ears, realization dawned on her like a thousand morning suns: _not everything she learned could be applied to real life_.

Severus gazed down at the girl in front of him in shock. If it wasn't for his current situation, he might have found her obvious discomfort amusing. His shoulders slumped and he sighed inwardly. She really had grown quite a lot since she had come to the school as a bushy-haired, buck-toothed eleven-year-old several years before. She was the age of consent, too … but she was also his former student. Severus Snape, a Slytherin through and through, did almost nothing that did not result in some personal reward. It seemed that whatever humanity he had left wouldn't allow him to deflower this blossoming dahlia.

_But she's willing. _

He eyed her thoughtfully in consideration as the notion slithered deviously into his mind. Yes … she was willing. _Ready and willing_, he mused as Hermione shifted uncomfortably. He could smell the sweet, musky ambrosia of her arousal as it saturated the air. He could taste it on his lips. And if he willed it, he could have her now.

Hermione lowered her head until her chin nearly touched her chest. She couldn't bear to look at him. Something in his eyes flickered when he looked at her, considering her offer. Whatever it was, it had caused a reaction in her. A very strong reaction.

"Miss Granger ..." he began with a sigh.

"Professor," she said softly, her eyes pleading. "Please. I … you don't have to … we don't have to be together. I don't need a relationship," she continued, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You don't have to take me as a consort, or even as a lover. Just take me once … just one time."

Severus growled softly. In his heart, he felt something like pity, maybe even compassion for the girl. It was so hard to resist her when she plead to him so sweetly, so purely. Especially with a body like hers. But it wasn't right, and he knew it.

"I am not a man of passion," he began. "Years of service to the Dark Lord has made me cold and distant. It is not in me to love, or even grant affection. I need to realize this. I am a selfish man, Miss Granger," he stated simply. He didn't want to spare her the truth. "Everything I do is a means to my own end. Everything."

"I don't care!" she cried. Tears of anguish streamed down her face. "I don't need a connection. I just want you!"

In one swift motion, Severus took her shoulders into his strong, nimble hands, slamming her against the dungeon wall roughly. She gasped when he pressed up against her, feeling a hearty ache in her belly even as his eyes flashed dangerously.

"You have graduated today," he growled lowly, "but I am and always will be your elder, and as such you will treat me with respect." The dark wizard began to back away from her, his muscles tense. Truthfully, he had not been angry with her. He had been shocked and surprised that she was willing to lose her virginity to a man who admittedly held no emotion towards her.

"I do not need a consort, Miss Granger," he continued. "I do not have room in my life or in my heart for a permanent lover. When I need relief, I can just as easily pay for it, without the hassle of emotional attachment. I can never be what you want me to be."

A prolonged silence ensued as they stood there, face-to-face, adversaries with an extensive understanding of the other. Severus' face was grave and emotionless, almost as if he had just finished giving a lecture rather than breaking his young student's heart. Hermione's mouth quivered in agony as it hung open, motionless, speechless, tears streaking a path down her face.

Someone's loud, booming voice echoed through the stone corridors. Severus' eyes softened for a moment, his eyes flickering over her body before turning away, refusing to look at her. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He wasn't sure he could reject her again if she spoke. He couldn't tell if he'd bought his own argument.

He wasn't sure he wanted to.

"The trains are boarding," he said quietly, his gaze focused on some insignificant detail on the floor. "You had best go to your friends. Good luck, Miss Granger," he added coolly before striding back into his room and slamming his door shut with a resounding _bang_.

Hermione stifled out a sharp cry before she turned and ran up the dungeon corridor, promising herself that she would never look back.

But as she reached the end of the tunnel, she couldn't help taking one last glance at the door of the only man she would ever love.

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Bah. I feel really bad for Hermione. Everyone knows how terrible it feels to be rejected. Stupid Severus. lol. Hope you caught the foreshadowing there in the last few sentences. Please review! As always, _flames are welcomed and encouraged_. …But only if you have a valid complaint, of course. 


	3. II: A Tempting Offer

**II. Chapter One – A Tempting Offer**

**Disclaimer**: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

* * *

Hermione Granger was twenty, passionate, respected, had recently graduated with one of the highest NEWT scores in history, considered one of the brightest witches of her time—and also about to be jobless. 

She sighed in an exaggerated tone, skimming through the Daily Prophet once again for any sign of a job opening that looked appealing. But the truth was, she had never felt completely at home anywhere once she had left Hogwarts. Those ancient, enchanted walls held within them her accomplishments, her memories, her deepest secrets and highest aspirations. No one appreciated Hogwarts quite like Hermione Granger.

Which was why, the young witch was sure, she was never completely devoted to her work. True, she was much sought after post-graduation, but Hermione preferred to fly under the radar, taking small jobs with meager pay. Hogwarts was her past, and it was trying to make damn sure it would be part of her future, too.

Hermione rose from her desk and strode towards the window, glancing outside with vague interest. It was only nine o'clock, but already the streets just outside of the Leaky Cauldron were bustling with muggles and magical folk alike. Here and there clocked wizards could be seen, invoking odd stares from the muggles who didn't notice them abruptly disappear in the next instant. The wizard had either apparated or entered the Leaky Cauldron, a small pub that served as the doorway to Diagon Alley. To Hermione, the Leaky Cauldron was not only her home, but also her job choice—at the moment.

Pressed for time, Hermione chose a modestly corseted white-and-lavender dress as her daily garment. Even though she lived in one of the inn's upstairs rooms and had a tendency to be organized to the point of anal retentiveness, Hermione had trouble being on time.

"Miss Granger!" came a muted call from downstairs. "Miss Granger, you had better be awake!"

Hermione blanched, diving into the washroom to avoid persecution from the owner, Tom.

"Ridiculous," she muttered, disrobing and tossing her clothing aside. The miffed witch twisted the water taps and checked the temperature. She had just climbed into the steaming shower when—

"MISS GRANGER!"

Hermione let out a shocked squeal, struggling to wrap the shower curtain around her exposed flesh as she came face-to-face with the disembodied head of her employer.

"You're late!" it declared angrily. "I expect you fully robed in ten minutes!" It then disappeared with a small _pop_.

Visibly shaken, Hermione finished out her shower cautiously (and a little suspiciously). She dressed quickly, muttering to herself the whole time, before warding her door against unwanted intrusion and heading downstairs.

"Ah, miss Granger. I see you've decided to join us," commented Tom, giving her a rather smug glare.

"I might have been down sooner if I hadn't needed to keep looking over my shoulder for floating heads," she replied hotly.

"Fair enough," he chuckled, shooting her a sideways glance. Tom was a fair man, and Hermione a respectable woman, but lately he had noticed her becoming rather edgy, as if she were nervous. It didn't bother him when she occasionally zoned out or even when she snapped, but he made it his business when it cut into her work time. He was worried about the bright young woman, having more or less watched her grow up, observing the changes in her every year as she passed through with a friendly smile on her way to Diagon Alley.

_And grown up she certainly had_, he thought lewdly to himself. That untamable nest of bushy hair had righted itself into an attractive set of loose curls, golden-brown in color and of a manageably soft texture. Her eyes were much the same color; when the sun emblazoned her face and lit up her eyes, Tom imagined they could justly be compared to honey.

Hermione caught his eye and offered a tentative smile before gathering her notepad and heading over to serve a table of eager wizards. He watched her go, his eyes tracing the shapely curve of her hips and that adjoining mound of soft flesh.

Of course, Tom was a gentleman, but what attracted him most to Hermione was her body. She was the type of girl who would have men hex each other over her just to get a piece. She was trim but shaped like a woman, with full, ripe breasts and a smooth belly. What impressed Tom the most was that she didn't seem to know how gorgeous she was, and if she did, she was certainly modest about it. Hermione was a true poster child for beauty.

"The witch in the corner wants to know what her tab is," said Hermione, breaking Tom out of his lustful reverie. He looked at her, almost shocked, and she grinned at him questioningly.

"Something wrong?"

"Err … no, Hermione. You're doing well. Tell her this drink is on the house." He let out a deep breath when she turned away to complete her task. He hoped that she didn't yet know how to recognize that telltale gleam in a man's eye.

.x.

Hermione worked ceaselessly until late afternoon, and only then was Tom able to talk her into taking a short break. The Leaky Cauldron's peak business hour was coming soon; it was usually the busiest around eight o'clock. At this point Hermione went upstairs to freshen up and get a bit of reading in before returning downstairs, dismayed to discover that the bar had become several times more busy in the few spare moments she took to herself. She sighed dismally, trudging across the room to begin her shift.

"Madame, could I take an order, please?"

Hermione turned to address the wizard and was stunned into silence when she realized who the voice was coming from. It was none other than Albus Dumbledore, her former Headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she breathed, dashing over to the older man. Not only had Professor Dumbledore saved she, Ron, and Harry's life innumerable times, but he had also been an important contributing factor to the fall of Voldemort. Where others had doubted the word of the famous trio, Professor Dumbledore had always taken them seriously and listened with an unbiased ear. Hermione didn't doubt that he had been offered the position of Minister of Magic several times. But like her, Dumbledore's place was in Hogwarts.

"Ah, Miss Granger," he commented evenly, peering at her with thoughtful eyes. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I, uh, wasn't expecting to see you here. Hogwarts business?" she questioned, slipping into the seat beside him.

He chuckled. "I'm afraid so, Miss Granger. But why not get a nice, cold pint of firewhiskey and chat with a few friends before getting down to business, hmm?" He peered at her mysteriously over the top of his glasses, making her feel as if he were probing her mind.

Hermione blushed. "Ah, yes, sir. Your drink. So, a firewh—"

Dumbledore held up his hand, halting her in mid-sentence. "No need, Miss Granger. Actually, I came here to proposition you. I would like you to consider coming back to work for me at Hogwarts."

Hermione was stunned. The shock didn't last long, however; a few moments later, her heart began to leap at the thought of returning to Hogwarts. Had the librarian, Madam Pince, retired? Did they need another Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? But Hermione knew that no matter what the position was, she was going to accept. No matter what.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrow, and Hermione remembered he was a skilled Legilimens. She blushed, realizing that he was probably listening to her thoughts.

He offered another small chuckle. "Of course, there is the matter of transportation and salary, but I believe you will find the rooming to be quite satisfactory—"

"I'll do it!" she gushed, radiating happiness. Isn't this what she had dreamed of since graduation?

"Now, as for the position to be filled …" He trailed off, giving her another all-knowing glance. "You are to be the apprentice of our Potions Master, Severus Snape."

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Well, there's another chapter. Bet you didn't see that one coming, did ya? xD Anyways. Oh, by the way, it's obviously disregarding the fact that Dumbledore is dead. Please review (if you want)! 


	4. There's No Place Like Home

**Chapter Two – There's No Place Like Home**

**Disclaimer**: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

* * *

Hermione continued to live and work at the Leaky Cauldron for the few weeks that preceded the beginning of term. She existed in an almost dreamlike state, excelling at everything she did and enrapturing everyone she met. Tom was delighted with the change in her, even going so far as to offer her a raise. Hermione politely declined. 

The day before she was to board the Hogwarts Express, Hermione took a daytime trip to Diagon Alley. The young witch spent a small fortune on potion ingredients, multicolored ink and quills, a large stack of parchment, an impressive pewter cauldron and, of course, enough books to fill a small library.

But as she lay there that night, staring at the full moon through the thin fabric of her curtain, an anxious knot began to tighten in her belly. _What's wrong with me?_ she thought. _I have all my equipment, my books. I've always excelled at anything that I've done. Hogwarts is like a second home to me. Why do I feel so nervous_?

The answered followed just as quickly as the questions had.

_Severus Snape_.

Hermione hadn't seen the Potions Master since the day she had graduated from Hogwarts over two years before. For months following her rejection she was reclusive and antisocial, locking herself in her room and burying herself in her studies to avoid pining over the dark wizard. It was as if she'd been slapped by the Dark Lord himself when she looked around herself one day, at the world that had been passing her by as she mourned her unrequited love. Everyone had a career, a family, a life. All of her closest friends, who had long since given up on her, had made the best of their years at Hogwarts and become invaluable to the wizarding society. She was the witch with the highest expectations attached to her name, and she had become nothing. She was a disgrace. And it was all his fault.

Unwilling to allow the memory of a man she once loved to continue to dominate her life, Hermione pushed the Potions Master from her mind and emerged into the world, a painted butterfly breaking free from its prison. But no matter how hard she tried, she could never fully commit herself to anything equal to her level of talent and skill. For the next year and a half, the most sought-after witch of her time worked a string of low-income jobs, making barely enough to sustain her lifestyle.

_But I don't love him anymore_.

Hermione's stomach clenched tightly as the thought appeared in her mind. Of course she didn't love him anymore. It had been two years. There was no room in her heart for the man who had no room in his bed. She had barely spared a thought for the man in the past year and a half. He had been buried deep down in her psyche long ago, too deep to ever emerge.

But how would she explain the reason why she longed to go back to Hogwarts? Why she had accepted no lovers, never had a boyfriend … remained a virgin? Truthfully, Hermione didn't know how she would react to the Professor, or how he would react to her.

_He had his chance_, Hermione thought angrily. _If he wanted me, he should have taken me when I was willing_.

Satisfied, Hermione rolled onto her side and closed her eyed. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't dislodge the thought of the Potions Master from her mind.

.x.

The following day, Hermione was to board the Hogwarts Express. Most of the teachers had already arrived, but Dumbledore had permitted Hermione to arrange her affairs before beginning her job. Later that afternoon, she boarded the train after having bade Tom a tearful farewell. He watched her load her trunks into the muggle taxi and grinned inwardly. There was so much more Hermione Granger could do working at Hogwarts than waitressing in some backwater pub.

The journey there was hardly eventful, with the exception of a few minor disturbances. To Hermione's delight, both Professors McGonagall and Sprout were also aboard the scarlet steam engine, though they didn't get much time to catch up before the students began to cause trouble. Somehow, a group of second year wizards had managed to transfigure their Chocolate Frogs into _living_ frogs (a feat for which Professor McGonagall was proud), which kept rallying together to try and kidnap the rest of the Chocolate Frogs from the trolley cart. Not once did Hermione think of Professor Snape.

When they arrived at Hogwarts a little after dusk, Hermione wanted to take her trunks straight to her rooms and set up, but an eager house elf insisted that she instead attend the beginning of term feast. Hermione had nearly burst into tears when she saw the tiny creature attempting to lug her trunks down into the dungeons. She cast a quick floating charm on them before skipping off to dinner.

Dinner wasn't much different from the usual feast, with the students being sorted into their houses and the singing of the school's anthem. She did, however, take an appreciative note of the height difference. She was so accustomed to sitting at the Gryffindor table, chatting contentedly about Quidditch and timetables. Now, she was sitting here among her professors—_no, colleagues_, she had to remind herself—trying to pretend she fit in, and had been teaching there for years. The mysterious absence of the Potions Master made the adjustment far more easy than she had pictured it.

After Dumbledore had turned the yawning and contended students in for the evening, Hermione wished the other professors a friendly 'good night' before heading down to her own room, which was conspicuously located in the dungeons. She was pleased (and a little distressed) to see that all of her things had been put away for her.

Hermione paced around the room slowly, touching the stone walls for texture and pausing every now and then to listen for any sign of a draft. After a few moments, she noticed a second door, which seemed rather out of place for private quarters. Deftly, she entered this second room and was a bit surprised to find that it was, in fact, a laboratory. Bookshelves lined one side of the wall and ingredients, the other. Her cauldron had been placed in the center of the room's only table like a decorative vase. There were four working counters, two on each side of the table, which separated the shelves from the main working area. Hermione shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth. The dungeons really were drafty. The rumors were true.

The witch turned and was about to leave when she spied a second door, opposite from the one that led to her room. Curious, she pushed it open and stuck her head around the door to examine its contents.

_Oh, my God_.

There, clad in nothing but a pair of boxers, stood her former Potions professor. He didn't seem to notice her as she watched him move about his room, cleaning and organizing stacks of parchments and bundles of quills to ready himself for the beginning of term. He growled deeply and Hermione watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, the muscles across his abdomen tightening as he contemplated to what extent his labs would be damaged by foolish first years. Her eyes remained locked on his chest, lean and toned from years of physical labor, tracing the path between his pectoral muscles. They followed the clearly defined path all the way down his abdomen where his pelvis engraved the telltale 'vee' to that sacred place between his legs. Hermione gulped.

In that vulnerable moment he looked up and saw her standing there, blushing furiously and looking as if she might faint. His dark eyes widened in surprised by remained unreadable. He strode towards her and placed his hand on the door, staring down at her from an impossible height.

"Err—professor—" she stammered.

"And I expect, Miss Granger, that you have a perfectly plausible excuse for breaking into my private quarters after hours."

Hermione flushed indignantly. "I'm not a student here anymore, Professor Snape! I—I was just coming to introduce myself—"

"I believe I have already had the misfortune of being graced with the knowledge of your existence," he responded tonelessly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I wish to be left alone."

Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door shut and Hermione could hear him placing wards on the room. Angrily, she stomped back to her room and made sure to slam the door – hard.

She stood there for a moment, silent, still, her heart racing in her chest as anger stacked up inside of her. The witch let out a small shriek of frustration before removing her clothing rather violently and tossing it into a messy pile in the corner, climbing into her four-poster bed.

"There's no place like home," she grumbled angrily.

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There you go, everyone! The story's starting to get under way now. How'd you like that sexy Severus? Rawr. _Very_ rawr. Please view! 


	5. The Woes and Revelations of Severus

**Chapter Three – The Woes and Revelations of Severus  
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**Disclaimer**: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

**Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to review my story. n.n **

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Severus was furious. Not only was he completely unaware that he would be receiving and assistant, but of all the wizards and witches in the world, the very last person he would have expected to see was Hermione bloody Granger. She had never shown any interest in that subject and, indeed, never pursued a career in that area after graduation. 

He attended a class of first years, still seething, and immediately deducted fifty points from a Gryffindor girl who had fainted upon his arrival. By the end of the lesson, three other students had fainted and fully half the class was in tears. Even some of the Slytherins were crying.

He decided not to talk to Albus about Hermione, however. He didn't want to give the old bastard the satisfaction of having pissed him off. Truthfully, an assistant could be useful to him—being the only Potions Master in the school was rather time consuming, although he loathed the idea of being undermined by a much younger and less experienced witch. Especially if that witch was Hermione Granger.

Severus sighed inwardly as he reclined before his fireplace at the end of the first day, a bottle of firewhiskey resting on his knee. He didn't know whether or not Hermione was still interested in him. He certainly hoped not, though he highly doubted that she'd still want him after almost two years. He stared into the fire, transfixed, alabaster complexion highlighted orange by the flames. Hermione was the least stressful thing on his mind at the moment.

_Another year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_, he mused silently. Not that he'd ever enjoyed teaching an entire school's worth of incompetent fools. But this year, a dramatic turn of events had fallen into place to ensure that Severus' school year would be entirely more pleasurable than any he had previously experienced.

The Dark Lord was dead. Voldemort had been defeated.

Late in the summer, the death of Lord Voldemort had marked the conclusion of the greatest war in magical history. The war had raged on for little over a year, and several very talented witches and wizards had been lost. The enlistment by Voldemort of several dangerous Death Eaters and magical creatures had assured that. The outcome had begun to look bleak for the Order and other Ministry members when Harry had unexpectedly slain Voldemort. No one knew exactly what had occurred then – Harry himself couldn't even seem to remember – but rumor had told of the use of Godric Gryffindor's sword.

Severus leaned back in his chair briskly, nursing his now half-empty bottle. He had been a double agent, a spy for both Voldemort and Dumbledore simultaneously. In the last hour Severus had revealed his loyalty to Albus Dumbledore and the Order, leaving many of the Dark Lord's followers rubbed the wrong way and out for his traitorous blood. Although there were still many Death Eaters running rampant, the death of Lord Voldemort had lessened the threat to the wizarding world dramatically.

Severus had never fathomed a word without Voldemort, a world without pain and the freedom to do what he pleased, to make his own decisions without the weight of the magical world resting on his shoulders. The sensation was all so new to him that he didn't know quite what to do with himself. He performed the same routines, the same tasks day in and day out as he had done when he was servant to both Voldemort and the Order. He couldn't bring himself to do anything different.

Lately, however, he had begun to think of the future, and what it might hold for him … how the remainder of his years could be best spent. Severus was a selfish man, though ironically he could never imagine himself becoming anything more than a servant for the greater good.

He grunted non-commitally, taking a long swig of firewhiskey. He winced slightly as it burned a trail of fire down his throat. The bloodline of his mother was one of the oldest known. If he didn't produce an heir, that bloodline would die with him. Severus Snape needed to produce an heir.

But what witch could possibly want a man with his background?

His thoughts gradually shifted back to Hermione and his encounter with her the night before. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had seen something in her eyes then … fear, maybe. Could it have been lust? Whatever it was, it had been refreshing to Severus. He hadn't seen true emotion in a woman's eyes for as long as he could remember.

Severus growled softly, scolding himself for allowing such thoughts. She was his student, for God's sake, not some whore on a street corner, and certainly not a woman he desired.

_She's not a student anymore_, part of him mused. _She's a colleague now. An assistant. _Your_ assistant_. _And Albus never specified what she was to be helping with_.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, massaging his temples. He rose to his feet with a slight stagger and made his way into his sleeping quarters, picking up that morning's issue of the _Daily Prophet_ from his desk. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. The Potions Master skimmed through the articles quickly before jotting down a few notes on a piece of parchment, wrapping it with a string of green and silver ribbon. Slytherin colors.

Severus tossed the rolled-up piece of parchment on his desk and disrobed, hanging the clothing neatly in his closet before climbing into his bed. He lay there, silent, motionless, his hands folded beneath his head as thoughts flooded his mind like a broken dam. At first, he wasn't sure what he wanted in a surrogate mother, but as the minutes passed and he thought about what values he would teach his children, Severus realized there was one trait that he cherished above all others: intelligence.

Unfortunately, there weren't nearly as many intelligent witches as ones who would just as easily spread their legs.

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Sorry for the short chapter. T.T I just wanted you to see Severus' point of view so you understood where he was coming from. Please review! 


	6. Chances and Challenges

**Chapter Four – Chances and Challenges **

**Disclaimer**: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

**Tasha: Thank you for your compliments! They were very much appreciated. **

**Megan Consoer: Of course I will. I'll write as many chapters as you guys want. **

**LadySessho: Thank you! Doesn't everyone love Severus? n.n**

**SnapeDreamer: Haha, you'll have to wait and see. You can bet there will be some sort of a twist in it.**

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The next morning before breakfast, Severus paid a visit to the owlery. He tied five different letters to the legs of five different owls, giving them all a couple of pieces of toast and a few knuts before heading down to the main hall to eat.

The dark wizard wasn't surprised to see that Hermione was missing from the head table. Most of the staff members could barely restrain themselves from shooting him dirty glances, assuming that he had already driven away his new assistant. He ate a hearty breakfast of toast, eggs and sausages with milk as he eyed them back indifferently.

Classes began as scheduled, with the usual pack of first year idiots making the usual set of first year mistakes. A small Hufflepuff girl was sent up to the infirmary when she and several of her friends attempted to create their own potion using several packages of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans. Every couple of minutes, she would morph into a new food item. Her friends were horrified when she transformed into a pile of pepper.

Severus was relieved when lunchtime rolled around. His afternoon classes consisted of older, more experienced students, who were less likely to create a dangerous situation. He had just finished clearing his plate when all five of Hogwarts' barn owls swooped in through the high windows, circling over his head and hooting indignantly as they searched for a place to perch. One of the owls landed on his shoulder and ruffled its feathers impatiently as he untied the message from its leg.

_Professor Severus Snape, _

_I thank you for the opportunity that you have bestowed upon me. I would be delighted to make your acquaintance. If you wish, I would not be opposed to a meeting of sorts to discuss the terms and conditions of my becoming the surrogate mother of your child. _

_Truly yours, _

_Fiona Figglesworth_

The four other letters read much the same. Severus responded to each of them, setting up appointments at the Three Broomsticks for the following day. The interviews were spaced twenty minutes apart to ensure that none of the women would encounter each other.

Severus sighed grimly. He had a sneaky feeling that this wasn't going to go well.

.x.

Hermione had just begun brewing a strong batch of healing potion when a tremendous bang on the lab door jolted her from her work. Grumbling, she turned down the heat underneath the cauldron before unlocking and unwarding the lab door, opening it slightly.

"Miss Granger," Severus gripped the door handle and opened it fully, standing before her at full height. He hesitated as she gazed up at him, her eyes curious and questioning. There was no hint of affection. Severus blinked. She was so small … he was almost a foot taller than she was.

A short pause followed. "Yes, Professor?" she asked hesitantly.

"Err … yes," he began, trying to remember what he had come to talk to her about. She had the ambitious gleam in her eyes that Severus had come to recognize so well over the years. It meant that she was working on something, learning something new. Challenging herself in a new and unfamiliar environment.

"Tomorrow, you will be covering my classes," he said. His tone suggested that she had no choice in the matter. "I suggest you begin working on your lesson plan now."

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and stalked back down the hall into his own room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Hermione seethed, shaking with anger as she stared after him down the dark hall. Who did he think he was, anyway, to be able to command her like that? To take away an entire day's work so _he_ could have some time off? And to think … to think she once _loved_ this man. She didn't know what she'd seen in him. She was just a blind, horny, lovesick teenager.

"Severus Snape!" she called angrily, "You are an insufferable bastard!" Hermione slammed the door shut and placed several strong wards on it. He wouldn't be returning to the labs tonight.

Leaning against the door, Severus chuckled to himself in amusement. Hermione Granger was a feisty one, but he was by far the more dominant of the two.

.x.

Severus awoke early the next morning and took a quick shower, donning his best dress robes and applying a small amount of sandalwood cologne. He tied his hair back into a neat ponytail and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast.

He wasn't surprised to find Hermione looking tired and rather frazzled. Feeling particularly refreshed this morning, Severus decided to take pity on Hermione as he watched her struggle to create a lesson plan, books and parchments strewn across the table on either side of her, eating only a few slices of toast for breakfast. After returning to his rooms, he drew up a schedule for her and left it on the lab desk where he knew she would find it. A few minutes later, he left for Hogsmeade.

The first witch was already there when he arrived. Severus growled appreciatively as he gazed at her. She had worn a green and silver robe – Slytherin colors. She didn't look bad in them, either. As a matter of fact, she was really quite pretty, though not perfectly aligned with Severus' preferences. Her eyes were big and round, baby blue and glancing around nervously. Blonde hair framed her pale face like a halo. Thin, heart-shaped face. Large, melon-shaped breasts. Severus had always appreciated curves on a woman.

"Fiona?" he questioned briskly as he swooped down into the booth seat across from her. She jumped slightly as he sat down, her eyes wide, almost as if she had to think about what had just happened.

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, giggling. "You're, like, that hero guy I'm meeting. I'm sooo stupid." She fanned her hand in front of her face dramatically. "I thought you were, like, trying to rape me or something."

Severus nodded slowly, staring at her expressionlessly. He didn't quite know what to say. Severus would be the first one to admit that he believed strongly in first impressions … but he was willing to let her apparent stupidity slide. For now.

"Err—so …" he began slowly. Maybe if he paused more in between words, it would give her a chance to catch up. "…What school did you say you went to?"

"Oh … I didn't," she responded, equally as slow.

"No, you didn't. That's why I'm asking you," he said.

"No, silly," she said, giggling in that annoyingly over-zealous tone. "I mean, I don't go to school. I dropped out. It was, like, _way_ too hard. I'm not good at any of that magic stuff."

"You're not very good at any of that thinking stuff, either," he muttered quietly.

"What was that?" she asked, waiting for a response. When none came, she grinned seductively, leaning forward across the table and sliding her hand over his arm. Her breasts bulged out over the collar of her shirt.

"I'm, like, totally into that vampire stuff," she purred. Severus watched in utter disgust as she ran her tongue across her lips, glossy and tinted pink by some cosmetic enhancer. "I guess I have, like, a kinky sex fetish or something."

She nodded. Severus' mouth curled into a smirk.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Well, Miss Figglesworth," he cooed, "why don't we go see … how far you're willing to go?"

Fiona's eyes lit up instantly and she nodded, rising from her seat. She eyed the wizard with a dreamy, far-away look. He was a dreamboat. Tall, dark, and handsome. Fiona smirked. She had this one in the bag.

Severus took her arm and together they strolled out of the Three Broomsticks, traveling only a few hundred yards to the right. He had led the buxom blonde to Midnight Wands; bar and restaurant by day, sex club and motel by night.

"Room for two, please," Severus growled at the short, balding man behind the counter. His nose wrinkled in distaste. The man looked remarkably similar to a rat with his long, curved nose and wispy gray hair. A fat, dirty, perverted rat.

"Room for two," the man repeated, sneer evident in his annoyingly whiny voice. "That'll be five galleons. Last room on the right, sir and … _ma'am_." He stressed the last word with something similar to a purr, caressing Fiona's body with glazed eyes. "If you should find our services unsatisfactory, a full galleon-back offer is guaranteed."

Severus pitched a few galleons onto the counter and began to work his way down the hall, Fiona following close behind like an obedient dog following its master. She was almost salivating as she fantasized about what the Potions Master was going to do to her, delicious shivers embracing her body in its electric grip. _You've got this one, girl_.

The dark wizard smirked as he pushed open the motel room's door. It was uncomfortably small, with a double bed in the corner, a tiny bathroom and no windows. Oh, well. The room hadn't been made to sleep in.

He turned when he heard the door close behind him. Fiona was leaning against it, blonde hair dripping down over her breasts like honey, hips jutting forward as her shoulders rested against the door. Her blue eyes gleamed with something that Severus couldn't recognize. Victory, maybe. Or so she thought.

"So," she said, her voice low and sultry. Her eyes burned as she sidled towards him, her hips swaying in wide arcs. She slid behind him, her lips pressed to the nape of his neck gently as she whispered into his ear. "Want to see what I can do … Severus?" His name rolled over her tongue like chocolate, smooth and velvety.

Severus turned and took her by the shoulders, shoving her back onto the bed roughly. She let out a small squeal as her body bounced on the mattress and Severus climbed on top of her, straddling her waist with his knees. Her eyes were hot and inviting as she gazed up at him. He stared back at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. With a small growl, he trapped her wrists over her head, clutching them powerfully as she writhed beneath him, her back arching, searching for contact.

"Yeah, baby!" she moaned. Severus winced. She was trying _way_ too hard. He was almost embarrassed for her.

Almost.

Holding her wrists down with one hand, he reached into his robe pocket and withdrew his wand, pointing it at her.

"Petrificus totalus!" he said. Immediately her body stiffened and her skin turned pasty-white, almost as if she were covered in a fine layer of frost. He reared back and stared down at her for a moment, admiring his work. Fiona's large blue eyes widened in desperation as he replaced his wand in his pocket and moved towards the door, smirking.

"How's that for kinky?" he cooed, opening the door and backing out of it slowly. "Having sex without any physical contact whatsoever."

Severus closed the door and retreated down the hall swiftly. That would give the witch a few things to think about.

"Done already, Master Snape?" questioned the short, fat owner. Usually when Severus came around, he was there for hours.

"She is resting," he replied. "Wait a few hours before you wake her."

"Yes, Master Snape," he sneered. So the witch was sleeping. Perhaps he could get a few looks at her before she woke.

By the time Severus arrived at the Three Broomsticks, the second witch was already there. She, like Fiona, had worn a green and silver cloak. But unlike Fiona, she wasn't very attractive. Severus sighed in disappointment.

Severus seated himself opposite her and she smiled, waved timidly. Hmm. She wasn't _that_ bad. He said nothing, waiting for her to introduce herself.

"Severus Snape?" she questioned, and continued after receiving a curt nod to go on. "I'm Rowena Macduff. You may have heard of me … I work for the Daily Prophet?" she offered. He nodded again, though he had never heard her name. "But I'm just working there until I can afford to go to university."

"What for, Miss Macduff?" he questioned.

"Oh, I wanted to become a Potions Mistress," she sighed. Her eyes glazed over excitedly. "I have ever since I was a little girl."

Severus growled appreciatively. This interview was a far cry from the last. The witch was very impressive. He knew how challenging it was to earn a degree in Potions. If she earned one, he would look forward to having not only an assistant, but a consort and an intellectual challenge for at least nine months.

"That's very ambitious, Miss Macduff," he commented. The prospective was looking bright so far.

"Here's your tea, ma'am," chirped one of the barmaids as she strode over to them hurriedly. Severus watched the entire scene play out like a film in slow motion: the eager barmaid stumbled and fell, overturning the cup of tea all over his interviewee. She stood up with a surprised squeal, and Severus' eyes bulged.

She was already pregnant. _Very_ pregnant.

Noticing the look on his face, Rowena huffed and crossed her arms. "Well, how else did you expect me to afford university?"

.x.

"Er … how old are you again?" Severus questioned slowly.

The young girl looked down into her lap nervously. "Well … I'm thirteen now, but I'll be fourteen when the baby is born!"

Severus growled.

.x.

Severus stared up at the woman sitting across the table from him. He doubted very much that she was human.

"Alright, so I'm part mountain troll," she admitted, "but it shouldn't affect the baby … too much."

He began to bang his head on the table.

.x.

"Hey. Hey, Madame Rosmerta," Severus called drunkenly. " 'Nother firewhiskey, woman."

Severus had been drinking since late afternoon. He hadn't bothered to meet the last witch, afraid that she would somehow turn out to be worse than the previous four. Not that he could think of anything that could have been worse.

_Ron Weasley, maybe_.

"Now now, Severus," Rosmerta scolded playfully, "I think you've had quite enough to drink for tonight."

He scanned her body discreetly as she tended to other customers. She wasn't a classic beauty, but there was no denying that Rosmerta was an attractive woman. Perhaps _she_ could be the mother of his heir. Maybe they could even fall in love, though Severus doubted that any woman would give him a chance, let alone tolerate him for the rest of his life. He didn't mind. He was used to being alone. In fact, he preferred the solitary lifestyle.

"Rosmerta, will you bear my children?" he asked, struggling to bring her into focus.

She began to laugh, but when she realized he wasn't joking, she quickly busied herself with other things.

Dammit.

Severus returned to Hogwarts just as the sun had disappeared below the horizon. He grinned sadistically, wondering how Hermione had fared: his first-year morning classes were notoriously untalented. Knowing that someone else was more miserable than he was made him feel better about his less-than-productive afternoon.

Severus strode down to the dungeons, ignoring the annoyed looks on his students' faces when they realized his absence didn't mean that he had been fired (or worse). They much preferred the pretty young witch who'd substituted for him today.

He unwarded the door and entered, drinking in the silence and darkness that greeted him. Severus always appreciated the darkness. It concealed him, not only in figure but in thought, hiding everything about him that he wished others not to know. No one needed to know what he was. They didn't need to know what he felt.

But a small ray of light disturbed his reflections. It crept out from under his laboratory door, distorting the perfect darkness that he existed in. Confused and disoriented, he pried the door open.

There sat Hermione, head propped up against her closed fist as she scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment. A shock of golden-brown curls had escaped her loosely made bun and lay dormant against her slightly flushed cheek. She muttered to herself quietly, reciting notes to herself as Severus looked on in stunned silence, drinking in the simplicity of her beauty. He grunted subtly, looking down when he felt that familiar tingling sensation and noticed the slow but steady tenting of his robes, not quite absorbing the whole situation. Unconcerned by this at the moment, he looked back up at her, grazing her body a little unchastely. Was this reaction right? She was a student, after all … no, she was an associate now. A grown woman.

Hermione looked up at long last and Severus wondered if she had felt the lust radiating from his body. Her lips parted with an unanswered question and she jumped slightly as he dove for the back desk, looking embarrassed and slightly confused.

"Uhh … Professor Snape—?"

"I trust you found the day to be … challenging, Miss Granger?" he sneered, trying to ignore his "little" problem.

"Challenging … yes," she responded reluctantly, not totally convinced that there was nothing amiss. Then she continued. "But I enjoyed it. Now, look—" she held up her parchment, as if he would be able to read and ridiculously small and hurried handwriting. "I've compiled an evaluation of the students, and I've included …"

Severus stared at her, dumbfounded, and she babbled on, so sweetly oblivious to the effect her words, her mere presence, were having on him. He watched her eyes become animated as they did when faced with a new challenge, describing in detail the goings-on of every insignificant second of the classes. Her hands moved about excitedly to exaggerate her point. They looked so tiny, delicate, and for a second he had an urge to touch them, just lightly, to see if they might break.

"… Are you listening? Well, I didn't mark them down for making a mistake, but instead—"

"Good work, Miss Granger," he said weakly, turning in an instant to retreat to his rooms. He slammed the door behind him and warded it several times over, leaving his very confused assistant staring after him, bewildered.

Severus stood in the darkness, breathing heavily, until he heard her gather up her things and return to her own room. All of his muscles relaxed as he slipped into his bed, not bothering to remove his robes. Had he really just had that strong of a reaction to Hermione Granger, a woman who he'd taught and been exposed to for seven years? A reassuring throb from his starved cock convinced him that he had.

_Miss Granger, what are you doing to me_?

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Ha! There it is. Evil, naught Severus. But wouldn't we all just _love_ an evil, naught Severus? Please review! 


	7. Excuses or Explanations?

**Chapter Five – Excuses or Explanations?**

**Disclaimer**: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

**We Are The Walrus: Haha, yeah. Crazy Severus. I'm glad you enjoyed it, though.**

**Gwennivierre: Thank you … I think? lol. Not quite sure how to take that. xD**

**Airlady: He certainly did, didn't he? I'm having a lot of fun with this story, so I can only hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. (lol. It sounds cheesy, but it's true.)  
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The next morning at breakfast, Hermione noted, Professor Snape was nowhere to be found. She waited all through breakfast and ten minutes after to speak with him, but he never came. Disappointed, she gathered her books and headed down to the potions lab.

_I wonder if it has anything to do with yesterday_.

Still puzzling over that thought when she reached her room, Hermione tucked the student evaluations from the previous day into her organized cabinet. She stood there aimlessly for a moment, completely still, like a deer caught in the headlights. What _had_ happened yesterday? She wasn't quite sure, but she _was_ sure she'd caught the smell of firewhiskey before he ran off.

After gathering her work essentials, Hermione headed over to the adjacent potions lab, her usual pile of books in tow. Professor Snape had left a detailed list of potions for her to begin preparing: a healing elixir, a health draught and an unnamed potion that she assumed was his own recipe. She began to work on the healing elixir first, rationalizing that most of the students would be needing some on hand by the time Quidditch season began. As brutal as the actual game was, being in a stand surrounded by witches and wizards of the opposite team was that much worse.

By the time lunch rolled around, Hermione was so immersed in her work that she had forgotten to eat. Hair surrounded her face like a frizzled halo, giving her every bit the appearance of a traditional mad scientist. Several house elves walked in, eager to serve her, and had walked right back out in disappointment upon seeing the look of concentration she wore on her face. She worked in this frenzied state for the rest of the day, refusing to stop until all three potions had been successfully started.

"Ah, Miss Granger."

Startled, Hermione jumped a little, but sighed when she saw Professor Snape leaning against the doorframe, holding a plate of food and smirking in that singularly devious way. Hermione stared suspiciously. He was too smug. Something was up.

"I hope that assignment isn't giving you too much trouble."

She glared at him wickedly, knowing that he had loaded on the work purposely for one reason only: to break her spirit. It couldn't have been more obvious that Severus Snape didn't want her around. She had only been employed for three days, and already he had done his best to avoid her at all costs, even to the point of leaving her in the middle of a conversation. But she wasn't going to give in to him. Hermione was the consummate Gryffindor … strong-willed, stubborn and courageous.

"I've got a good start on the healing elixir, and the health draught, too …" she picked up the potion list and stared at it, frowning. "But this last one is complicated. Do we even have all of these ingredients in the school?"

Severus stared at her intensely, watching her lips match the words coming out of her mouth. The words themselves were meaningless, their context completely lost on him, and it suddenly occurred to him that sobering hadn't taken away any of her allure. She was just as beautiful as the day before, when he had watched her working.

_Working_…

Ah, so that was it. He wasn't _really_ attracted to her. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, trying to relieve the pressure on his quickly ballooning cock. He was just attracted to her intelligence, her incredible work ethic. It was so hard to find in a woman these days. The women Severus chose were whores, women who he could pile-drive across a bed or carpet. Women who were good for sex – but nothing else. They weren't intelligent enough to have a conversation with and not pure enough to pursue a relationship with. He was a possessive man, and any woman who was good enough to be his would not have the option of being shared by anyone else.

"Professor?" Hermione stared at him, curiosity etched in her face. There was an odd look about him, a language written in his eyes that she couldn't decipher. She was sure she had seen it before, in the eyes of the young wizards who hit on her shamelessly, but she couldn't be sure. After all, this was Severus Snape, a man who had berated and abused her for seven years of her life. If there was any tenderness or sensitivity in him, Hermione had certainly never witnessed it.

"Since you didn't attend lunch today," he began, with the subtlest of sneers evident in his voice, "I thought it would be only decent of me to bring you some … food." He handed her the plate, stacked high with peas, mashed potatoes, and a cold chicken sandwich. On the counter behind him stood a glass and a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"How, er … considerate of you," she said slowly, accepting the food. Perhaps it was a peace offering. _A little late, though … about seven years too late_.

"I believe it is my duty to inform you that the first Hogsmeade trip will begin on Friday, October the sixth. And, let's see … oh, yes." He pulled a piece of parchment from his robe pocket, examining it briefly. "Several of the staff members will be going. Including yourself," he added mockingly.

"But Hogsmeade trips don't usually start until late October," Hermione said. "And the healing elixir should be done on Sunday evening."

"Yes, I believe several of the parents were petitioning for the students to gain more 'out-of-school' experiences," he responded coolly. "It would seem to me that they believe not all knowledge could be gained from books."

Hermione realized this to be a personal blow, but she let it slide. She wasn't about to let him get to her. Not after dealing with him for all these years. Not now that it mattered.

"Then I guess I'll see you then," she said tersely, gathering her food and lab notes. Without another word, she returned to her room and warded the door.

Hmm. He was losing his edge. Severus ran his fingers through his hair. Tsk tsk, Severus. Losing your concentration over a set of breasts?

_Ah, well_, he thought as he glanced at the potions, simmering away in their cauldrons. _Nothing a good fuck can't fix_. He paused, grinning inwardly. _Something I'm pretty sure Miss Granger will be needing in due time_.

.x.

Hermione's workload lightened after her encounter with the Professor, and she even managed to make it to dinner once or twice. But as Hermione's tasks thinner, so did Professor Snape's visits, which made her feel lonely and isolated down in the dungeons. She longed to be able to join the frantic bustle that the rest of the school was in, and even considered petitioning for another position.

_I'd rather be a Professor Snape's personal slave than not working here at all_.

And so she continued to work tirelessly, counting down the days until October the sixth and their first Hogsmeade trip.

Hermione lay in her bed the day before the break, staring at the hands of the clock. They inched along at a gruelingly slow pace, as if taunting her about the fact that there was still an entire night before the trip. But there was something else bothering her, another reason why the slow passage of time was gnawing away at her patience.

Hermione Granger had never been so horny in her life.

She'd been extremely horny for several weeks now, though she wasn't quite sure why. Of course, she _had_ been horny before, but nothing like this. She pressed her legs together urgently, hoping the dull fire between her legs would ebb. She could feel her own fluids moistening her inner thighs every time she moved, and the heavy, musky scent of her arousal filled the room. Hermione groaned softly and turned to the opposite wall, wincing as the electricity in her body awakened with her movements.

"Dammit!" she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut. Well, there was no way around it …

Hermione rolled onto her back and reluctantly began to touch herself. She slid her fingers lazily over her throat, between her breasts and down her belly, shivering lightly at her own feather-light touch. God, how badly she needed a man to be doing this …

Her fingers quivered in anticipation as they reached that sensitive plane where her pelvis jutted out gently, carving the soft vee that pointed down to her current subject of frustration. With some urgency, she pushed past the elastic waistband and traced her juicy slit with a shudder. For a moment she imagined Severus, biting and licking and kissing her neck as he bent her over a table. She imagined his cock, swollen and thick, tearing into her brutally as he took her from behind.

"Oh, God …" Hermione released a trembling groan as she plunged her fingers into herself. They slid in with ease, ardent fingertips searching for that blissful place within. Lifting her hips impatiently, she finally found it and with a soft moan, began to rub it feverishly. Waves of pleasure coursed through her body and Hermione cried out impatiently, wanting her heated torture to end.

"Severus!" she squealed as release took her into its merciful embrace. The orgasm gripped her like vice, squeezing the air from her lungs and coated her bed and inner thighs in the fluids of her liberation. The blazing witch cried out once more, back arching and hips thrust into the air.

Hermione gasped in air desperately as the orgasm began to subside, and lowered herself back onto the bed. Damn, she must have been horny… normally, touching herself didn't accomplish anything but to make her more worse off than she started.

Wait.

_Severus_? Where the hell did that come from?

Hermione shivered. Best not to go there again.

.x.

Severus gasped, his forehead planted firmly against the cool stone wall of his private chambers. Oh, God. Hermione's fleeting fantasy and amorous screams of arousal had almost sent him over the edge more than once in the past few minutes. He gripped the base of his cock tightly, willing himself not to spill over, forcing himself not to think of the incredibly sexy woman just two rooms away, waiting and ready to receive him with open legs.

Sweat dripped down his body as he fought against his animalistic urges. There weren't words accurate enough to describe how badly he wanted to run to her rooms, pin the positively arousing witch against the wall and slam her until she passed out from pleasure. He had slipped a slow-acting lust potion into her pumpkin juice with every intention of tuning into her most private thoughts about sex. Truthfully, he had done it simply because he wanted to know how she felt about him, whether or not she still loved him – or at least lusted for him. He craved the self-approval that came from knowing that a much younger and very desirable witch needed his body as much as he lusted for hers. And he had waited with baited breath for three weeks. Frankly, he was surprised she had lasted that long. But damn … he definitely was _not_ expecting a show like that.

He hadn't even needed to use Legilimens to hear her lustful cries. He saw her erotic illusions, saw himself pummeling her from behind as she cried out beneath him, unable to do anything but scream. Each thrust was punctuated by a cry from the other room and a grunt from Severus, who barely managed to live out Hermione's shameless orgasm-fest.

Panting, Severus stumbled to his bed and lay down, his cock throbbing uncomfortably. No more voyeurism for him.

* * *

Well, there it is. Next chapter: HOGSMEADE! Be prepared for some twists and turns. Bumpy road ahead!  



	8. Dirty Playing Grounds

**Chapter Six - Dirty Playing Grounds**

**Disclaimer**: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

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**Heroin-xOverdose: lol. I'm working on it! I try to update as quickly as I can! Nice to have some, er … _positive_ reinforcement, however. o.O; **

**SailorMoon1982: Well, I'd put it on one of those sites, but then people will be expecting sex in like every chapter. I'll try that out, though, thank you. nn**

**Redlightspin: Oh, I will. Moohahaha. I have so many more things planned for him. –Evil laugh.-**

**RebelWilla: And you can bet that it's going to get hotter!**

**Applekissis: Thank you! I hope you do. Actually, I hope everyone does. o.o; **

**Ms Figg: Holy God! I can't believe you actually read my story. It really means a lot to me … seriously. You're the one who turned me on to Severus and Hermione as a couple in the first place. I'm glad you're enjoying it.  
**

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Hermione stared at the muggle calendar that she had magicked to her wall. Friday, October the sixth. _Friday_. It was only 6:30 in the morning, but she had woken up practically oozing excitement like a ten-year-old on Christmas morning.

Since she was already awake, Hermione decided to make the best of her time. She showered thoroughly, choosing the coriander-scented soaps and shampoos, an herb that she knew would have an invigorating effect on those within smelling range of her. She brushed her honey-colored hair to a shine and even put on a dab of lip gloss. Smoothing her robes over her midriff, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"What the hell am I doing?" she grumbled, sighing at the over-zealous girl staring back at her. "It's just Hogsmeade. Nothing special, right? You've been there a thousand times."

_Except that you haven't had any discernable social life since you got here_.

Hermione sat around boredly for the majority of the day, too anxious to accomplish anything significant. She organized and reorganized her cabinets and shelved the potion ingredients in reverse alphabetical order. Finally, just after lunch, she went to assist Hagrid with his afternoon classes and found some purpose to her day.

"Have fun i' Hogsmeade, Hermione," his booming voice called after her as she returned to the school.

It was nearly 6:00 and beginning to get dark by the time all the students and teachers going to Hogsmeade had been rounded up. After a quick attendance check, they set off in small groups. Several teachers, including Professor Snape, kept a wary eye on them.

It was nearly impossible for them to be watching all the students, however, when they reached Hogsmeade. The students immediately broke into smaller cliques and scattered in every different direction. Torn and not quite knowing what to do, Hermione headed into the Three Broomsticks, where she thought the majority of the students would probably be.

She was right, for the most part. The Three Broomsticks was packed to overflowing with three or more people to a table. She had to dodge several students carrying mugs of hot butterbeer on her way to the counter.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Madame Rosmerta, her face instantly brightening. "What are you doing here? I thought you graduated with Harry and Ron."

Hermione grinned shyly. "I did, but … I came back to work for Professor Dumbledore. At Hogwarts."

"That's great for you, Hermione," she commented as she darted back and forth behind the counter, carrying empty trays and mugs. "Listen. It's a bit busy out here. Why don't you go back to the bar area?" she suggested.

"Oh, I … I really shouldn't. I'm supposed to be watching the students," Hermione explained.

Rosmerta leaned over the counter, eyeing at Hermione knowingly. The young witch couldn't help but notice how Rosmerta's breasts leaked out over her shirt collar. She blushed, embarrassed at how undeveloped and juvenile her body looked compared to Rosmerta's feminine curves.

"Hermione," she began, her voice low, amused. Hermione could barely hear her over the constant din in the background. She leaned forward. "You know that Hogsmeade trips are as much a break for the teachers as they are for the students, don't you?"

Hermione nodded shallowly. She had never thought of that before. Of course the teachers worked hard.

"So," Rosmerta concluded. "Get your butt back there and have yourself some fun." The older woman leaned away and dashed to a table of students who were ready to order.

Hermione rose from her seat and peeked timidly around the corner towards a door with a sign that read 'ADULTS ONLY'. She pushed past several groups of teenaged socialites and stood on her toes to peer through the small round window. Darkness. The young witch paused and took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing_.

.x.

Severus had been watching Hermione since she'd entered the Three Broomsticks. She hadn't noticed him, of course; a hooded cloak concealed his face as he watched her squeeze her way across the tavern, strike up a conversation with Rosmerta. He'd seen her looking at the bar door curiously before she got up and entered. A small pang of something unfamiliar tugged at his heart. Something within him urged the Potions master to follow her, to continue watching her. But he felt uneasy. This new feeling disturbed him. Resisting his urges to tag along behind the witch, he leaned back in his seat and took another sip of his firewhiskey.

.x.

The room was dimly lit, the music low. Hermione took a few hesitant steps into the bar lounge, a part of the Three Broomsticks that she'd never seen before. It was about the same size, if not larger than the main room. Bottles of multicolored alcohol lined the glass shelves behind the counter across one entire wall of the lounge. Little islands of couch-and-table sets had been placed strategically around the room. Several witches and wizards look up as Hermione entered the room.

"What'll the young lady have tonight?" questioned the bartender, a distinguished-looking, middle-aged wizard. He retrieved a glass from somewhere below the counter and placed it before her, staring at her with intense blue eyes.

"Just water, please," she asked meekly. Hermione had never had a single alcoholic beverage in her life.

"Nonsense," growled a deep voice. "Give her an apple martini, Solomon. Put it on my tab."

"Yes, sir," the bartender replied, retrieving several bottles from the shelves behind him and pouring them into a mixer with several different types of fruit juice.

Hermione blushed, risking a sideways glance at the wizard beside her. His head was cocked in her direction, and he flashed a charming smile at her when she looked at him. She could feel the heat rising in her face.

The wizard laughed, sipped his drink. He was really quite attractive, Hermione noted, with medium-length, wavy brown hair and deep, dark eyes. Her gaze swept over his body briefly before she turned back to face the counter, embarrassed. He wasn't overly-muscular but lean and trim, a bit small for his height.

"Here is your drink, ma'am," Solomon said, sliding the glass to her over the counter. She muttered 'thank you' in a small, timid voice, swirling the greenish liquid about in its cup uneasily.

"It's not as bad as you think," the wizard laughed, turning on his barstool to face her. She could feel his intense gaze as it hugged her curves appreciatively. Face burning with embarrassment, she took a small sip of her martini to avert her attention.

"Wow," she said, surprised. "This is really good. I can't even taste the alcohol."

"See?" he said, his voice smooth, comforting. Hermione took another sip of her martini, offering a shy, polite grin. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the wizard sitting next to her, but she felt suddenly very open, very uninhibited.

"I'm Hermione," she said, tilting her body towards him to shake his hand.

"Hermione." The wizard repeated her, giving her name his personal signature as he accepted her hand. His touch was like silk. Hot silk. Hermione blushed slightly and took another sip of her drink, avoiding his gaze as if trying to conceal her lewd thoughts.

"A pleasure, Hermione," he said to her. "You can call me Caius."

The two spoke until late in the night, becoming more than a little acquainted with each other. Hermione finished her first drink, and then a second and a third, becoming quite inebriated. She learned that Caius was in fact Caius Dukarai, one of the most revered Potion Masters in wizarding Britain. They argued and debated questioned theories, the young wizard being quite impressed with the extent of Hermione's knowledge and the reach of her ambition. But the conversation turned in a different direction entirely as the night went on and Hermione became more intoxicated.

Solomon shook his head lightly at the obviously drunk witch and the litter of martini glasses strewn over the counter before her. Another young, innocent girl who had fallen prey to Caius' charms.

"Tell me about your best sexual experience," Caius asked, his voice suggestively lowered. He hadn't even had to work on this one. All he had to do was get her drunk.

"Oh …" Hermione's eyes glazed over for a moment before she began to giggle, snatching his glass and taking a small sip with a wince. "None."

"Surely they can't have been _that_ bad." _And if they were, they won't be soon_.

"Oh, that's not it," she said, her speech slightly slurred. She squinted, trying to bring him into focus. "I'm a virgin, you know."

Caius' eyebrows raised. "A virgin?" he echoed, surprised. "Well well, Miss Granger. You're far too pretty to let yourself go to waste like that." He leaned forward, resting his hand on her knee. His voice was soft, seductive. "If you let me be your very lucky first wizard, I promise I'll give you an experience you'll never forget."

Hermione looked at him, her eyes a bit heated. Normally, a statement like that would have earned the wizard a one-way trip to St. Mungo's. But something about him made her want to comply. Badly.

"Hermione," he whispered, leaning towards her. His lips grazed her jaw and he planted a small kiss on her throat, her heart beating so hard that he could feel her pulse. The wizard grinned as a small but unmistakable gasp pierced the air. He was on the right track.

"Come with me now," he asked, his breath warm and soothing against her throat, "And I'll make you come later."

Without waiting for a response, he stood and slipped one arm beneath Hermione's knees, the other, across the back of her shoulders. She squealed as he lifted her with ease, sauntering with wide steps towards the staircase that led to the rooms upstairs. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, her face pressed against his chest. That small familiar pulse burned between her thighs as he carried her up the stairs. He put her down to open the door.

Hermione shrank back into the corner and eased her way to the floor. As she leaned over to throw up, she didn't notice a dark shadow streak up the stairs, grab her would-be lover and roughly slam him against the wall. She didn't see two men struggling to best each other and she certainly wasn't paying attention when the darker wizard threw a particularly nasty hex at the other, knocking him out cold. But she did feel a pair of strong, steady arms lift her and cradle her against their owner's chest, pressing a warm hand to her clammy, pale cheek.

"No," she whispered as she saw Caius, his body limp on the hallway floor.

"Hermione." Someone called to her, pulled her out of her dream, commanded her to return to her world. "Promise me that you'll always do what I say if it's for your own good."

"Yes," she said, neither of the two noticing as a spiral of golden light swirled around them. "I promise, Severus."

* * *

There you go. Sorry it took so long … I had some trouble writing this chapter. Quite frequently, actually, I get these really bad bouts of writer's block. I find the best thing to do is write anyway, and that's how I finished the chapter. I apologize in advance if the next chapter takes a long time, too. Please review! 


	9. A Wizard's Oath

**Chapter Seven - A Wizard's Oath  
**

**Disclaimer**: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

**RebelWilla: x.x; I hope it's not _too_ predictable **…  
**Anonymous: Thank you! That's quite a compliment.  
Green-Eyed-Angel: Thank you, and oh … there _will_ be more. So much more.  
Septentrion: Yeah … I think it's because I only had three reviews for the first five chapters, so I was feeling sort of like no one really cared whether or not I discontinued it. Not so much this time!  
GurlOfTheNight: Thank you!  
Lexa: Wow. It's really refreshing getting a long, in-depth comment like that. I very much appreciate you taking your time to list the strengths and weaknesses of my story and writing style. I'm glad that you like my writing (I'm always a bit self-conscious about it), but I'm also glad that you were honest about Hermione and the lewd descriptions in the first chapter. I agree with you about her character, though; so far, I haven't really done a good job of giving her a solid personality. As with her not having much interaction, well … I'd just been building up her loneliness for the trip to Hogsmeade, and with that out of the way … I'll be having her interact more with others now. Also … I'm really sorry about that first chapter. xD! The story was originally meant for Adult Fanfiction, and as you can see, I didn't really change it … though I think I will now. Again, thank you for the comments, and if you have any suggestions I'd be happy to hear them. That goes for everyone else, too!  
DragonsDaughter1: Oh, oh. Hermione has a weakness!  
KyaxSkyxGoddess: Sorry it took so long. x.x  
DarkMage6: Everyone needs a Snape, don't you think?**

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A powerful, throbbing headache woke Hermione early the next morning. She winced and turned on her side, pressing her hands to her temples with a small groan. Something smelled strongly of alcohol.

_I'm never drinking again_.

She rolled lazily out of bed, staggering to her feet and steadying herself against the wall. The world spun around her violently for a moment as she tried to gain her bearings. The very dim light of the torches burned in the back of her eyes like an internal sun. The hung-over witch shook her head lightly, vainly attempting to clarify her vision.

The dark green bed quilt was emblazoned with silver serpents, intertwined in intricate patterns over its surface. A dark wooden bookshelf lined one wall and a roomy desk was wedged against the other. The room was identical in structure and layout to Hermione's, but some dark presence lingered in the room, making her feel uneasy, anxious.

_Where am I?_

Hermione wandered to the door and opened it, emerging into a room that she assumed was a lounge of sorts. Another large bookshelf had been placed against the adjacent wall, and two squishy armchairs huddled around a fireplace.

She was in Professor Snape's private rooms.

Immediately after realizing this, she returned to his bedroom and unlocked the door to the lab, blushing furiously as some memories of the previous night came flooding back to her. Oh, God. She had gotten so drunk that he'd had to Apparate back to Hogwarts with her in his arms. The door opened and she charged through it. Why had he brought her to his rooms instead of her own? Had they slept in the same bed?

"So good of you to use your own feet this morning, Miss Granger," snapped a cold, snarky voice. Hermione's face flushed with shame as she looked over at the Potions Master, seated calmly on a stool as he sliced pieces of some ingredient and added them to a simmering potion. Something about his complete lack of emotion angered Hermione. It bubbled up inside her with lethal brutality, and she turned to him rigidly.

"I didn't ask for your help!" she spat. "So you can just get off your high horse, you nosy bastard, and _stay out of my business!_ What I do is none of your concern!"

Taken aback, Severus did little more than gape at her for a moment. She was clearly seething, her hair apparently retaining some of its natural frizz as it bushed out around her reddened face. Her fists were so tightly clenched by her side that her knuckles had begun to turn white, and her eyes were flashing dangerously at him, daring him to respond.

"How dare you," he snarled, rising to his feet. "How _dare_ you say that to me, you ungrateful little chit! If I hadn't come, you would have lost your virginity to a man whose interest only went as far as your knickers!" Angrily, he slammed his fist down on the table. Hermione flinched, looking quite a lot more timid than she had before.

"I brought you into my rooms!" he continued, his voice rising dangerously. "Merlin's beard, I brought you into my _bed _while you were violently sick and this is the thanks I get. I could have left you with him, do you realize that? Left you to fuck that wizard in a drunken stupor. Left you with nothing to remember your first time by but a bad headache the next morning."

Hermione had shrunk back against the wall as he raged on, his eyes wild with anger. She looked so small and meek that Severus almost felt sorry for her. But he was far too enraged to feel such an emotion towards the woman who had shown him such disrespect, such utter disregard.

"I don't owe you anything," she said bravely, her voice wavering.

Severus turned away from her, pressing his fingers to his forehead as if in deep thought. Suddenly, he stood stalk-straight, his voice cold and apathetic as he spoke to her over his shoulder.

"Get out of here, Hermione," he said, his voice strangely low. "Get out of my lab. I don't want to see you here anymore. I suggest you petition the Headmaster to find a new position within Hogwarts."

Thankful for any excuse to escape the brunt of his anger, Hermione sped quickly to her bedroom door and unwarded it before slipping inside. She let out a deep breath as she rested her back against it, eyes closed, heart racing. She opened her eyes and preened herself quickly in the mirror before marching over to the fireplace, taking a handful of floo powder and tossing it into the charmed flames.

"Headmaster's office," she said firmly.

.x.

Fawkes began to trill as soon as Hermione emerged from the fireplace. She gave a weak cough, wiping some of the soot off her robes. Dumbledore wasn't at his desk.

"Hello, Fawkes," she said, glancing at the phoenix sadly. He gave another trill, ruffling his feathers and cocking his head to the side, staring at her with large black eyes. He looked rather small, suggesting to Hermione that he had recently been reborn. She sighed, running her fingers through the feathers on top of Fawkes' head. The bird nipped her hand affectionately, accompanied by a soft cooing noise.

"Your life is so simple," she whispered.

"Hermione," beckoned a familiar voice. Hermione turned to look Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts' Headmaster, in the face. He chuckled good-naturedly. "I'm sorry. I had recently run out of Sherbert Lemons and had a sudden craving for them. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Err—yes," she stammered, reddening like a child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar before dinner. "I … I wanted to talk to you about being placed in another job position."

.x.

Severus stared listlessly into the simmering green liquid that was his potion, his eyes burning with loathing. How _dare_ she have the audacity to respond to him in such a rude manner after what he had done for her? How could she possibly be mad at him, blame him for what had happened? Hadn't she promised—

Very suddenly, Severus sat bolt upright, dark eyes dilated in thought. She _had_ promised. But something else had happened. Like the final piece of a puzzle being slid into place, Severus suddenly remembered the golden light, the powerful upsurge of magical energy.

Had they inadvertently taken a Wizard's Oath?

The dark wizard strode to his private chambers, scowling, and paused when he reached his bookshelf. His eyes, dark as night, scanned the titles adorned on the spines of the books until he found what he was looking for, pulling it from the shelf.

_Ancient Magic and How To Invoke It _by_ Erna Estel_.

Severus sat down at his desk and began to flip through the pages. His eyes narrowed when he located the entry he was looking for.

_There exists, as many spells have, an archaic form of the modern-day Wizard's Oath. Its magic, though not as refined, is still very powerful and should not under any circumstances be tampered with. _

_The history of this ancient Oath dates back to the times of Mesopotamia when the very first forms of regulated magic began to appear. Similar to a Wizard's Oath, when a magical being makes a truthful promise, he or she has just invoked the Iuris Veneficus, a spell that disables its user from going against what they have promised. Symptoms of breaking the boundaries of the promise are nausea, dizziness, disorientation, headache, muscles pain, and an urge to correct the situation. If the individual continues to defy the spell, death will eventually result_.

Severus read the entry several times over, his mouth held slightly agape. He closed the book and laid it gently on the table, running his fingers through his hair, lost in thought. Slowly, surely, a sadistic smirk crept onto his face.

Hermione Granger was completely at his mercy.

He reclined into the armchair, eyes glazed over in something similar to pleasure. The Slytherin part of him opted to exploit Hermione's situation to the fullest extent. She was at a major disadvantage. He frowned slightly as a thought occurred to him. What exactly did her promise entail?

_Promise me that you'll always do what I say if it's for your own good_.

It only took him a moment to realize what he wanted the most out of Hermione … but he wasn't sure it would work.

Oh, she was going to be pissed.

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Sorry. xD! I kind of cut it off at a bad place, huh? Sorry it took so long for such a short chapter … I've been kinda busy lately. Love at Brandon and Jamie if you actually continued to read after I forced you to read the first eight chapters … -Cough.- 


	10. Enslavement or Retribution for the Weary

**Chapter Eight – Enslavement or Retribution for the Weary**

**Disclaimer**: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

**KyaxSkyxGoddess: Thank you very much. n.n  
Green-Eyed-Angel: I'm glad you're enjoying it.  
WannaBArtist: I'm trying. x.x  
Septentrion: It probably would be, but unfortunately for her, I don't think she's going to get that far. Moohaha.  
GurlOfTheNight: Oh, I will. And thank you, too.  
AkaBlonde: Aw, no. You're perfectly good at reviewing. Thank you for the kind comment. n.n I'll really try not to abandon it, though I have to say, I have a really bad track record for continuing things. I think I have ADD. x.x; Also, I laughed my ass off when I read your last comment. xD Wow. I love you.  
RebelWilla: Oh, he does. Moohahaha!  
RedLightSpin: Everyone loves Snape! –Orgasm.-  
MoonBeam: Aww, thanks hun. Much appreciated.  
MsHellFire2005: Thank you!  
Alexis2: Aww. Thank you. Of course I will.  
Lexa: Haha. You shouldn't be so surprised. You took your time to leave me a long, thought-out and very helpful comment, and I thoroughly appreciate it. Thank you, once again, for giving me such a detailed review.  
I'm really glad that you told me what you did, because that's exactly the sort of affect I was aiming for … but I wasn't sure if I was getting it right. x.x; I was so anxious to see how it would be interpreted.  
BAH! I'm sorry. I'm really trying to work on describing their feelings more efficiently. I have a bit of a hard time with that, if you hadn't noticed. But I'm trying, I swear! T.T; Tell me when I'm getting better. Oh, and also … I won't give up until I'm done. : Everything's just real busy right now with exams and summatives coming up. Once again, thanks a lot for taking the time to review me. I really appreciate it.  
Shonah89: I'LL UPDATE! I swear! I'm trying. Really. Sorry about the cliffhangers, haha. **

**--Thank you _so_ much to everyone who has taken the time to review my story!--**

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Hermione trudged down from the Headmaster's office, carrying a fairly sizeable stack of parchments in her arms. Though she wore a smile on her face, her expression was rather wan and her belly was knotted uncomfortably. Although the Potions master had specifically requested that she find a new job position, she was beginning to feel a bit anxious about telling him that she had heeded his request almost immediately. She hung her head and sighed in exasperation. She had been terrible to him. Everything that he'd said had been true. He really _had_ been acting with her well being at heart, preserving her virginity so that she might be able to give the gift of her virtue to someone who she cared about. And she'd been a complete bitch to him.

Overtaken with regret, Hermione didn't notice the formless black shadow stalking her up the hall. As she opened the door to her rooms, it slid smoothly in behind her before the door closed without so much as a misplaced footstep.

Feeling around in the dark, the young witch heaved the stack of paper onto her working desk and leaned against it with a heavy sigh. She jumped with a startled squeal as a hand grasped her shoulder and a deep voice whispered '_Lumos_', illuminating someone's wand tip like a bright, glowing ember.

"What—are—you—!" Hermione squealed, violently beating around the neck and shoulders of her attacker. She grasped around feebly, searching for her wand in the dark vainly.

"Hermione!" the voice called, catching her wrists in his powerful hands. The wand fell to the ground as he backed her against the wall, holding her there as she struggled beneath him. A deep chuckle resounded through the dark, stuffy air.

"Professor Snape!" she hissed. "Let me go! What the hell do you think you're doing!"

He stood over her, silent, dominant, heating her body. She swallowed hard when it suddenly occurred to her what a compromising position she was in: pressed against her bedroom wall by the man who had taught her for seven years, the man who she was now bound to through employment. He growled and shifted against her, making her gasp. Her body throbbed subtly.

Finally, he complied, releasing his firm grip on her wrists and leaning down to retrieve his wand. Whispering an incantation, the torches began to light throughout her room.

Hermione was staring at him, red-faced and livid. Severus crossed his arms, smirking deviously. He could tell the witch was about to blow. She'd be even more pissed off later.

"SEVERUS!" she yelled. "GET OUT OF MY ROOM, NOW! Even being your assistant, you have no right to enter my private rooms without permission!" He had been smiling up until this point, but when her eyes suddenly began to gleam and something dangerous twitched at the corner of her mouth, he scowled. Why was she so smug all of a sudden?

"Speaking of which," she purred, and Severus' scowl blackened as she paced up to him, snatching the pile of parchments from the table. "I'm officially not your servant—err, _assistant _anymore," she said, her voice sharp with sarcasm. She shoved the job descriptions, applications and contracts toward him, crossing her arms with a smug little nod. He growled.

He looked at them briefly. "I've changed my mind," he replied sweetly, thrusting the pile of parchments back into her arms. "You will stay in the dungeons and continue to be my servant—err, _assistant_," he replied in an equally as sarcastic tone. "It's as much for your benefit as mine, I assure you."

The mischievous glint in his eyes made Hermione feel uncomfortable. She looked at him hesitantly. He was definitely planning something. Did he have some mysterious card up his sleeve that he would decide to play in the final hour?

"Albus won't like that you made me waste his time," she retorted stupidly.

Severus blinked. Was that it? Was the curse already beginning to work, or had she agreed of her own free will? He shifted his stance with a small, uncertain shrug. Oh, well. It made his job easier either way.

He stared at her, almost as if searching for some tangible cue that she had been changed by the Oath. She stared back at him curiously, one eyebrow cocked in confusion.

Apparently not.

But as he saw her standing there, gazing at him so vulnerably, so innocently unaware, an unfamiliar feeling gripped his chest. Should be doing this? Should he be taking advantage of an honest, hard-working ex-student of his? Should he not at least warn her about the Oath? Or should he test its validity without her knowledge?

_She owes it to you_, the darker side of his inner-monologue ensured. _The little vixen didn't show you any mercy when you fought to keep her virtue intact, when you risked your well-being for hers. Why should you show her anything more than apathy? _

Hermione sighed dramatically and began to tap her foot on the cold stone floor. Severus quirked a brow. He decided that his darker side made a very convincing argument.

"Oh, Hermione," he cooed, sliding towards her smoothly. His eyes darted around the room subtly, searching for something to test her curse on. He paused suddenly and his ebony eyes slid over her face in consideration. She shrunk back meekly beneath his gaze, intimidated but unwilling to relent.

"Yes?" she replied, her voice bold but shaky.

"Kiss me, witch," he growled.

"S-Severus—?" she stared at him, wide-eyed and gape-mouthed. She clutched her heart as it began to race in her chest, her face reddening with every backwards step she took towards the wall. _Oh, God. Not again, Hermione. Don't do this again_.

"I – I can't!" she blurted, her voice barely above a whisper. He glided towards her so that she once again found herself trapped against the wall in a very compromising position. Gasping, she inhaled a shaky breath. His mere proximity was beginning to make her nauseous, and her head throbbed uncomfortably.

Severus smirked as Hermione melted under his watchful gaze. He could feel the warmth radiating from her core as she heated up, set ablaze by her own lust … or perhaps something a bit more sinister.

"Kiss me, witch," he growled. "I know you want to. I can see it in your eyes … I can feel it in your body." He inhaled deeply, black eyes glazed over in something similar to pleasure. " … I can taste it in the air."

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, her voice small, timid. The witch gazed up at him helplessly, wanting so badly to comply but needing for her own sake not to. Every second that passed felt like an eternity as he stood over her, and something within her was beginning to feel very uncomfortable with the situation.

"There's something I … need to know," he answered cryptically.

"I can't!" she cried, even as everything in her body screamed at her to comply. Her heart pounded so strongly in her chest that every shuddering breath she took wavered in unison with the beat. Something in her stomach churned.

"Please … " she begged with finality. Severus could feel her resolve slipping away, and looking into her eyes he knew that she felt it too. Something in him wavered then, and he backed away, voiding his gaze.

"You're not going to leave," he growled. "You will stay in the dungeons and remain my assistant for as long as I will it."

He left in a characteristic swoop of his cloak, leaving a forlorn witch trembling against the wall.

* * *

I'm _really_ sorry for taking so long to post this chapter. I've been sort of busy between my other (pending) fan fiction and summer school. Stupid math. ANYWAY. I'll try to keep fairly consistent with my updating from now on. Thanks for reading. T.T  



	11. Resolution

**Chapter Nine – Resolution**

For the rest of the night and into the morning, Severus paced the fifty feet back and forth across his private quarters. The encounter with Hermione had answered his question and confirmed his suspicions: somehow, without realizing it, Hermione had taken the ancient Unbreakable Vow, the Iuris Veneficus, which required her to heed all of his commands without fail. He was caught in between pitying her and thinking of a way to use this knowledge to his advantage. From the very beginning, however, his decision had been more or less made: he was going to milk Hermione for all she was worth.

_But how?_

Severus paused with a slight growl as a loud '_crack'_ reverberated throughout his dungeon, announcing the arrival of one of the many house elves employed within Hogwarts. Though he saw them on almost a daily basis, he found himself somewhat repulsed by them, and perturbed by their ability to apparate to any place within Hogwarts at any time.

"Sir," the house elf squeaked, and Severus reluctantly turned to face the small green creature. He cringed slightly at its meager appearance; for though it had been employed at Hogwarts for many months, it had a slightly emaciated look about it, its pale green skin hanging off its bones like a deflated basketball.

"Er … yes?" asked Severus finally, realizing that he had been staring blankly at the creature for some time.

"You is receiving a letter, sir," it squeaked, shuffling forwards to thrust a letter up at him. "You is missing the owls at breakfast, sir."

"Oh … um, yes. Er … thank you." Severus dug around in his pocket absent-mindedly as he scanned the front of the envelope, embroidered in a loopy scarlet print. His probing fingers closed around a few bronze Knuts and he held them out for the house elf as he flipped the letter over in his other hand. The house elf made a noise of deep disgust, threw Severus a look of purest loathing, and disappeared with another loud '_crack'_.

With a shrug Severus strode to his desk, rifled about for a moment in one of the drawers and withdrew a letter opener, its copper handle polished to a shine. With it he slit open the back of the envelope and withdrew the letter. His expression blackened with every line that he read and soon the letter had found its way to the very bottom of his wastepaper basket.

_Another stupid witch_, he grimaced, _wanting to become the surrogate mother of my child … no doubt of the same quality as the others_.

As Severus raised his arm to toss the crumpled envelope into the garbage after the letter, an idea came to him that was so wicked and deceitful that he nearly laughed.

_Even _I'm_ not that wicked_.

But the more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. No matter what he did, he couldn't chase the thought from his mind. It roused his dark nature, the side of him that lusted always for power and domination. It was so far-fetched, so unlikely to ever work … but if it did, Severus would have gained the thing he now wanted the most with almost no personal loss. The risks, however, would be great – and the consequences potentially life-changing.

_If_ he was caught.

.x.

Hermione stared blankly at the hospital wing wall, administering the final touches on a particularly efficient batch of Pepper-Up potion. Her mind drabbled in the events of the previous night as she tried vainly to make heads or tails of Severus' actions. No matter how many different scenarios she imagined, however, she just couldn't come to terms with the idea that he may be interested in her in a less-than-professional way.

_It just isn't logical_, Hermione mused miserably. _Why would he turn me away at the age of seventeen, only to pursue me less than two years later?_

_There's something else going on here_, nagged a little voice in the back of her mind. _And you would only be wasting time and energy trying to figure it out before he tells you himself_.

Her resolve strengthened for the time being, Hermione decided to join the other teachers for breakfast in the Great Hall. If Severus had been expecting her to withdraw or show any sign of weakness, he was sorely mistaken.

The hall was unusually empty that morning; Hermione guessed that many students were attempting to polish off some of their homework early to avoid letting procrastination win them over as the day progressed. She noted, too, the absence of Severus; strangely, her stomach jolted uncomfortably, and she caught herself anxiously wondering what he was doing more than once throughout breakfast.

Just as Hermione had begun to tuck into a plate stacked high with bacon, eggs and toast, the morning mail arrived in a flurry of frost and feathers. A sunlit, golden flash caught her eye, and she glanced towards the knot of birds now circling overhead, searching for the recipients of their packages. Among them flew one of the most magnificent creatures Hermione had ever seen: a grand Steppe eagle, its golden feathers glowing as if alight, with a wingspan that could easily have been as long as Hermione was tall. And so, naturally, she was more than a little surprised when the bird descended gracefully onto the table directly in front of her.

"Why, Hermione Granger," whispered Professor McGonagall in a tone that suggested she was highly amused. "I believe you may have a secret admirer."

The eagle nipped at her finger gently as she leaned over her plate to untie the yellowed parchment wrapped around the bird's leg, tied with an elegant silver ribbon. Embarrassed, Hermione tucked the parchment hastily into her pocket, withdrawing a single silver Sickle and pressing it into the eagle's pouch. After it had taken a bit of bacon from her plate it alit once more and soared gracefully out the window through which it had come.

.x.

_Hermione, _

_Meet me at the Three Broomsticks at midnight. There are many things we need to discuss_.

_Room 214_.

Though Hermione was puzzled, she had no doubt whom the letter itself was from. She realized instantly that it would be foolish to think that Severus wanted to apologize for the way he had treated her the night before, and doubted very much whether the subject would be something that she found to her benefit. A spike of anxiety and suspicion gripped her nerves immediately. Something about it just didn't feel right. _What could he be up to?_

The rest of the day passed in a whirl of potions and ingredients, and not to her surprise, her day was completely Severus-free. It did little to calm her nerves, however; in fact, his absence only added to her doubt and anxiety. What was he planning to do that was so horrible that he was afraid to see her before he did it?

At 11:30 that night, Hermione changed into a clean robe and threw her black cloak on over top to avoid being noticed. She sat in front of her mirror nervously, staring at her reflection as she brushed her hair to a shine. A small part of her still felt the need to impress Severus, though she had convinced herself that it was simply because he was her elder and superior.

Hermione set out at fifteen minutes to, casting a Disillusionment spell over herself just in case. Although Lord Voldemort had been defeated, many Death Eaters still roamed Britain – and Hermione, despite her proficiency with defensive spells, would be very nearly at the top of their list. They simply didn't want such a good witch to be allowed to fight on the side of those against them, and at night she was particularly vulnerable because of her diminutive size.

The grass, laced with frost, crunched beneath her feet as she made her way across Hogwarts' grounds. Her breath rose in chilled puffs as she exhaled, betraying her position. She made her way across the grounds and through the front gate; from there, it was just a short walk to the Three Broomsticks.

The atmosphere of the little pub was altogether different than it was in the daytime. Most of the tables that held occupants hosted couples, and Hermione couldn't help but feel something similar to longing as she watched them. Her resolve wavered as she began to climb the stairs to the second level.

Room 214 was the second door on the left. Her heart gave a violent tremor as she paused before the door; it seemed to be telling her that she was making a huge mistake, and she'd never agreed with anything more. Drawing a final, strengthening breath, she turned the knob and stepped into the doorway.

Severus' face wasn't immediately visible, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could just make out his dark form, edged in light – his silhouette against the fire. She realized that he was facing away from her, and she could imagine his black eyes, dancing with light, as he stared into the flames. She almost wanted to turn around, hoping he hadn't heard her come in—_it's not too late to leave_—but as she turned quietly to exit the room, that deep, smooth voice that she loved so much beckoned her to stay.

"Come and sit down, Hermione." With some restraint, he added, "Please."

Hermione's feet carried her forward and her body, so at odds with her mind, forced her to sit. Nothing but a strong urge to satisfy her curiosity, and a little bit of something she wished so desperately to ignore, could have made her stay. She sat in complete silence, her eyes trained obediently and submissively on the ground, waiting for him to speak.

"Hermione…" he began, and she thought she could sense something a little more intimate than hesitancy in his voice. She lifted her honey-golden eyes slowly, deliberately; they met his own obsidian glare with a shock that made her heart race and something below her belly tingle. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, unable to break his liquid gaze.

Something in her broke when he sighed and averted his gaze, finally, back to the fire. She knew that something was wrong then.

"Look at me, Severus," she whispered, "why can't you look at me?"

"Hermione," he repeated, his voice little more than an inky whisper. But she felt it everywhere, caressing her body like a lover's touch, and she knew, knew before he even finished his sentence.

"You're going to bear my children."

* * *

OMG, guys, I'm SO sorry that it took this long to update, LOL. I've been really, really busy for the last while, what with graduation and apply to university and stuff. Please forgive me. T.T 


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